


you feel like coming home

by stormwarnings



Series: tolkien gen week 2020 [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Tolkien Gen Week, coming home, day three, grey spaces, lovely elves not knowing what they are to each other, sorry i used up my yearly allowance of angst on day one so from now on its just smiles and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormwarnings/pseuds/stormwarnings
Summary: Glorfindel is nervous about returning to Valinor. He doesn't need to be.
Relationships: Ecthelion of the Fountain & Glorfindel, Elrond Peredhel & Erestor & Glorfindel
Series: tolkien gen week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820518
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	you feel like coming home

**Author's Note:**

> day three of [tolkien gen week](https://tolkiengenweek.tumblr.com/) yayyy

Glorfindel had thought it right, on most accounts, that as he had been reborn by the Valar, he ought to see his journey through to the end. And so he dillied and dallied and delayed sailing to Aman, until finally Círdan came to him and said, in no uncertain terms, that they would be leaving soon, and either he would get on this ship or he would never be leaving Middle Earth.

Glorfindel had nodded and asked when they were to depart.

It was good company, on the Last Ship, as Círdan had so aptly named it. Círdan there was, and Celeborn, and Erestor, and Elladan and Elrohir (whom had been staying in Middle Earth only to await their sister’s dying breath) and many elves besides.

But it was the company in Valinor that he both dreaded and anticipated. Egalmoth and Turgon, lost to him before his return. Tuor and Idril, who it was said had both gone to the land of the Valar, counting Tuor among the Eldar. Elrond and Galadriel, who had sailed years ago.

And Ecthelion. Glorfindel, even with many years of contemplation on the soon-coming moment, did not know how Ecthelion would receive him. He had long made an effort not to think about it, and here they were, closer than they had been in a millennia, and still Glorfindel did not know.

He shook his head, looking out upon the shining sea.

“Elder,” came one of the twins. “You worry too.”

It was Elrohir. He was dressed in the finest livery he had brought, that which showed in him both his father’s legacy, and his mother’s. His hair was braided well, evidently done by Elladan, who wore an identical style. There was yet still grief in his face, for Arwen’s death had not been easy on either of her siblings.

“I worry, too,” Glorfindel said to him.

Elrohir seemed reassured at this. Glorfindel sighed, remembering that even the sons of Elrond regarded him with a slight bit of worship. _Oh, Ecthelion,_ he thought, _what you will think of me._

Glorfindel held his arm out to Elrohir, showing him the aged metal, the vambraces laced with gold. They matched his tunic, embroidered with gold and yellow, flowers and suns. They matched _him_ , with his ever-present, faint golden glow. _Oh, Ecthelion,_ he thought, tinged more desperate, remembering that almost holy light that shone from him, the Valar’s gift. _What will you think of me?_

“I worry too,” he said aloud. “I worry how they will receive me. I worry that they will judge me, and find me wanting. For my decisions were my own, not guided by some higher power, and how can I know that they were the right ones?”

Elrohir leaned against the railing. “I know how you feel, for I feel the same. It is good to know that even you, who has fought a Balrog, may in the end always dread your family.”

Glorfindel laughed. “Right you are, Elrohir. Right you are.”

Their silence was more comfortable, and then suddenly – there it was.

Elrohir gasped, and Glorfindel smiled. No matter his worries, the sight of Tol Eressëa was enough to steal his own breath away, too.

And there, coming into view, a crowd was gathered by a free dock. Círdan’s voice rang from above, the sky was blue, and Glorfindel, after all the years of waiting and wondering, could hardly stand to be separated from those shores.

“Here, Glorfindel,” called Erestor.

Elrohir went to go help his brother bring the ship into port, and Glorfindel stood at the bow of the ship with his friend.

“Don’t worry,” Erestor said.

“You know me too well,” Glorfindel told him. “It scares me, on most occasions.”

“You are an open book, my friend,” Erestor said in reply. “You have worried over the same thing for many years, and for no reason.”

“Well I’ve already died. What else am I supposed to fear?”

Erestor rolled his eyes. Then, “Celeborn, is it not lovely?”

Celeborn was busy searching the crowd for a certain golden-haired queen. “I cannot believe we are finally here.”

Glorfindel laughed, finding Galadriel in the crowd, white and gleaming. “I do believe her style may be better than mine, and that is saying something.”

Celeborn’s reply was lost in the rush of movement as the ship docked, and then they were there, the four of them, Celeborn and Erestor and Glorfindel and Círdan, leading the elves off the Last Ship and down towards the waiting arms of their kin.

Glorfindel saw Celeborn embrace Galadriel, and the twins dash past him like little ones again, to greet their mother. (And Celebrían did look so much better, which gladdened Glorfindel’s heart.) Elrond extended an arm to Erestor and Glorfindel, and greeted them both with a smile.

And then Glorfindel saw Ecthelion, standing to the side of the crowd, his dark hair flowing loose in the wind, his robes of silver and blue. He looked better now, than the last time Glorfindel had seen him, which he supposed made sense.

Glorfindel fought the urge to run to him. Instead he walked, like a respectful friend, and stopped at a polite distance. “Ecthelion,” he greeted, as if they had seen each other just yesterday.

Ecthelion’s expression was reserved, and looked a little sad. “Glorfindel,” he responded evenly.

Glorfindel scrambled to fix the conversation that had barely started. “I am sorry,” he said. “I am sorry, I know it should’ve been you, you would’ve been better, I did not choose it over you – ”

Ecthelion was shaking his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes, and now he was crying.

Glorfindel despaired. Perhaps this was a lost cause.

And then Ecthelion looked up, and Glorfindel realized he was _laughing._ “Oh, Fin,” Ecthelion said, and the old nickname made Glorfindel smile even as his confusion grew. “Always with the theatrics,” Ecthelion continued. Glorfindel straightened in preparation to protest ‘theatrics’, and then Ecthelion threw his arms around him.

Their kind were not tactile people. But Glorfindel had twice, many years ago, gotten to embrace Ecthelion, and this –

_This_ felt like coming home.

“You are finally here,” Ecthelion said, holding him tightly. “And still, you are stupid. You thought I would be _angry_?”

Glorfindel pulled back, but Ecthelion held onto his shoulders. “I know not what I thought,” Glorfindel responded sheepishly, acknowledging that there was probably some stupidity involved.

“Perhaps I would be angry,” Ecthelion said, “because it kept you from here longer. Kept you from _us_ longer.” He huffed. “Kept me from having a competent sparring partner for longer!”

Glorfindel laughed, and gripped his friend’s shoulders back. “How I have missed you.”

“I have only one thing to say,” Ecthelion started, and Glorfindel’s heart sank as he wondered if perhaps he had been too hasty in assuming his own forgiveness.

Ecthelion leaned close. “ _I told you so_.”

“What?” Glorfindel cried, for if there is one thing a best friend does not like to hear, it is ‘I told you so’.

Ecthelion let out a noise that could only be described as a cackle. “I told you that your vanity would be your downfall. And you let that thing drag you down by your _hair_!”

And though it was his own death they were talking about, Glorfindel and Ecthelion leaned against each other and laughed just as hard as they had in their youth, gold and silver side by side once more. And finally, finally, Glorfindel was home.

**Author's Note:**

> i love them so muchhh anyway come chat on [tumblr](https://stormwarnings.tumblr.com/) :D


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